wild salmon in tranquility

Imagine the world’s best salmon, added to the world’s most decadently naughty foie gras, tickled by oyster tapioca, licked by air-thin daikon radish slivers, punched by immense hits of umami and sweet, smoky soy wafts. A crunch of immaculately trimmed and fried silver skin, a sand-pit of unidentifiable edible dust. All kicked into perfect, spankingly fresh touch by a slice of sharp, crunchy granny smith and peppery ginger.

Aside, a diminutive dollop of thick, black, elemental salmon belly fat, cast into the night by shots of squid ink.

I was lucky enough to be at the World Sushi Awards on Saturday. I still can’t get over the flavours of Swedish chef Sayan Isaksson’s mouthful of fresh sushi. So utterly brilliantly thought out that I can’t help but wax lyrical, sail close to wind of verbosity and slip into raptures at the thought of it.

I’m making myself sick with envy.

One response to “wild salmon in tranquility

  1. Give me sweet breads at the St. John over raw fish anyday! Sounds like Roro’s idea of heaven though. xx

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